


I’ve heard talk of blind devotion

by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel



Series: It's too late to turn back now [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels, Archangels, Heaven & Hell, M/M, Punishment, Steve is Lucifer and Tony is Michael, idek, what is this i do not even
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 00:49:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3590034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel/pseuds/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The road to redemption is a rocky one, and the first step is admitting that redemption is what you want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I’ve heard talk of blind devotion

**Author's Note:**

> This is such a weird verse, I swear. But anyway, I promised people more of it, so here it is. Many thanks to Cluegirl, who commented on the original story at an opportune time, and reminded me of the series' existence at a time when I was able to work on it.

**I’ve heard talk of blind devotion**

As expected, SHIELD had a tantrum about Captain America wanting to move in with Tony Stark. They tried everything they could to keep Lucifer within SHIELD, but Lucifer stood firm, and transferred his meagre belongings to one of the spare bedrooms in Stark Tower without listening to a single argument.

Fury himself came out to Stark Tower to try and convince Lucifer to move back to SHIELD.

“Captain, are you sure about this?” Fury asked Lucifer. “Or have you forgotten what happened on the helicarrier?”

Michael and Lucifer exchanged glances, remembering the things Steve and Tony had said to each other in the heat of their disagreement. Michael wasn’t sure about what he’d said to Steve, but knew that what Steve had said to him as Tony still stung a little, even now that he was himself and knew for certain that it wasn’t true.

“I wasn’t myself then,” Lucifer said firmly. “I’m sure that Mr Stark and I will get along just fine.”

“What about Ms Potts?” Fury asked. “Does she know about this?”

Michael tensed. He hadn’t yet seen Pepper since the break-up, although she’d forwarded a number of messages and pieces of paperwork onto him. Michael knew that he should probably go check on her – at least explain about Lucifer moving in – but so far, he’d been putting it off.

“I haven’t had a chance to mention it yet,” said Michael.

“Ms Potts?” Lucifer asked curiously.

“Pepper Potts. She was my – we broke up,” said Michael. He still felt ashamed of how he was treating Pepper, who had been nothing but good to him, but it was better to cause her some pain now rather than deceive her. Because Lucifer was – had always been – the light of his life, and Michael knew he was incapable of pretending otherwise. In the end, breaking up with Pepper now had been the best course of action, even if it hurt both of them.

“Oh,” said Lucifer, with a look of sudden understanding, followed by one of sympathy. “Because of–”

“Yeah,” said Michael.

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not. Not really,” said Lucifer.

“I know,” said Michael. He understood. He couldn’t be sorry, either, not now he had Lucifer by his side again.

Lucifer turned back to Fury, who was watching them both with a look of suspicion.

“So you two are planning to live together, despite the fact that you couldn’t even handle a civil conversation up on the helicarrier,” Fury said skeptically.

“What can I say? We bonded over defeating Loki, killing aliens, all that,” Michael said flippantly. “Didn’t we, bright star?”

Lucifer looked vaguely amused.

“I guess you could call it that,” he agreed.

“See, so me and Steve here are buddies now, which means you don’t need to worry about us killing each other in a fit of rage, or whatever it was you’re so concerned about,” Michael told Fury. “So perhaps you’d like to leave?”

Fury ignored him, watching Lucifer closely instead.

“Captain, you’re still adjusting to the modern world,” Fury said. “Are you sure that living with Tony Stark is the best idea?”

Lucifer’s had lip curled a little at Fury’s words.

“Well,” he said, “with all due respect, Director–” and Michael almost winced, because that wasn’t a good sign, “–if you want me to adjust to the modern world, I doubt there’s anywhere more modern than Stark Tower.” Lucifer was smiling, just a little, and Michael knew that he was enjoying sassing Fury.

Fury gave Lucifer a long look, then looked at Michael, who gave him a look of carefully innocent inquiry.

“Fine,” Fury finally said. “You want to live with Stark, I can’t stop you. You’re a free man, Captain. But if I were you, I’d reconsider. Stark isn’t exactly easy to deal with.”

Before Michael could shoot off a retort to that one, Lucifer answered.

“Neither am I, Director,” he said, and this time his smile was entirely absent. “You might want to bear that in mind.”

“Ooh, burn,” said Michael. “So, Nick, if you’ve finished coming up with reasons why Steve here should stay under SHIELD’s control instead of exercising his right to go wherever the hell he wants–”

“Just try to get along, both of you,” Fury ordered. “The last thing I need is to clean up a brawl between Captain America and Iron Man.”

“Touched though I am by your concern, it won’t be a problem,” said Michael.

Fury gave Lucifer one last, scrutinising look, and finally left in a flap of coat.

“Is he always like that around you?” Lucifer wondered, frowning, as soon as they were alone.

“To be fair, he remembers when I was nothing but a self-obsessed, obnoxious billionaire,” said Michael. “So do most people. It doesn’t exactly raise me high in anyone’s esteem. And then I was dying and I might have gotten a little out of control and SHIELD had to step in and save my life. So there’s a reason he acts the way he does.”

“But you’re not that person anymore,” said Lucifer.

“Well,” said Michael, with a rueful grin. “Not _just_ that person. Old habits die hard, you know, and being human is a hell of a habit to try and give up.”

“I know what you mean,” said Lucifer. “Certain things keep trying to stick.”

“It’s the height issues, isn’t it?” Michael asked, letting his mouth run. “All that time stuck as the little guy, you just can’t get over everyone else being bigger than you even now you’re–”

Lucifer’s hand covered his mouth, forcing him to stop. Lucifer’s eyes had gone a little flinty, and somewhat assessing.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” he asked. “Since when do you insist on poking at everyone’s weak points?”

Michael bit back a retort and shrugged. Lucifer let his hand fall.

“This is me, baby,” Michael said. “There’s a reason everyone says I’m difficult to deal with.”

“Did Howard Stark really raise you that badly?” Lucifer wondered, and Michael felt his spine stiffen.

“ _Yes_ ,” he said bluntly. “Is that what you wanted to hear? Yes, okay, he was a dick of the first order, screwed up my human self like you wouldn’t believe, and it’s still affecting me even now I’m myself again. You satisfied?”

“Not really,” said Lucifer. He looked faintly angry. “Howard was really that terrible?”

“Can we just – not talk about him,” Michael requested. “Like, ever.”

“Alright,” Lucifer agreed, letting the subject drop, although he was still frowning in displeasure.

“So, hey, lunch,” Michael quickly changed the subject. “Let’s go have something to eat, and then I need to get on damage control.”

“Damage control?” Lucifer repeated.

Michael gave a snort.

“Aliens invaded, and right now we’re all heroes in the public eye, but that won’t last,” he explained. “Someone will start asking why we didn’t stop Loki sooner, or why we didn’t do a better job of fighting the aliens, and next thing you know, we’ll be to blame for the entire invasion.”

“That seems… harsh,” said Lucifer, and Michael raised his eyebrows at him.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know what it’s like to be blamed for everything, Luce, because I won’t believe you.”

Lucifer went silent at that, thinking about it.

“All right,” he said after a moment. “I see what you mean. So what are you going to do to stop it?”

“Like I said, damage control,” said Michael. “JARVIS.”

“Yes, sir?” JARVIS asked, and Michael paused at the careful note in the AI’s voice.

“JARVIS,” he said, directing his gaze towards the nearest camera, “it’s still me, buddy.”

“Given that you have apparently become an archangel overnight, sir, I cannot help but wonder,” JARVIS responded, his voice deliberately blank of emotion.

Michael stared at the camera.

“I know it’s hard to grasp, but it really is still me, J,” he said gently. “I’m just… more, than I used to be. Think of it as like amnesia, okay? Lifelong amnesia that only wore off yesterday. But that doesn’t mean I’ve become someone else. I’m still the same person I was underneath, just… a little different, that’s all.”

There was a pause.

“I think I understand,” said JARVIS, and Michael exhaled in relief.

“Good, because I don’t know what I’d do without you, J, and that’s a fact,” he said, and went on briskly. “You still have a tendril or two running through SHIELD’s systems?”

“Given the events of yesterday, sir, I thought it only wise,” JARVIS responded, sounding more like his usual self.

“Good,” said Michael. “Tell me, what have we got on the World Security Council members who decided to send that nuke?”

“You’re going to give them the WSC?” Lucifer asked. “They’re your scapegoat?”

“Yep,” said Michael, at the same time as JARVIS answered, “I have obtained copies of the official paperwork associated with the WSC’s decision to send the missile, as well as audio recordings of the process. Additionally, I have recordings of your conversation with Director Fury regarding the missile.”

“Great,” said Michael. “Disseminate it all.”

“Sir?”

“I’m sure you have a good idea who to leak those files to, JARVIS,” said Michael. “Make sure that whoever needs those files, gets them.”

“Are you going to warn Fury?” Lucifer asked, watching Michael.

“Nope,” Michael replied. “Better for him if he has plausible deniability on this one. I might not like him much, but anyone else they tried to put in the job would probably be worse, and I’ll say this for Fury, at least he tries to do what he believes in.”

“Even if what he believes in is having a bigger stick than the other guy,” Lucifer murmured, clearly thinking of the moment on the helicarrier when he’d discovered the phase 2 weapons.

“Better a guy with a vague sense of scruples like Fury than a WSC plant,” Michael confirmed. “You and me can deal with any future invasions, but what I’m really worried about is what’s going on down here on Earth. The WSC has too much power for a shadowy bunch of individuals no one knows anything about, and it makes me nervous.”

“We need to find out who they are,” said Lucifer. “And make sure that the rest of the world knows.”

“Exactly,” said Tony. “JARVIS, find out everything you can about the WSC, will you?”

“Of course, sir,” replied JARVIS.

“What next?” Lucifer asked, still watching Michael almost curiously.

“Lunch,” Michael suggested, raising an eyebrow at Lucifer, who only shrugged and said, “Okay.”

* * *

The two of them ate lunch in the penthouse kitchen. Michael didn’t know where Pepper had spent the previous night, but most of her things were still in the penthouse, which meant that sooner or later they were going to need to sort out who was going to move out and who was going to stay, but Michael didn’t even want to think about that yet.

Unfortunately, as though thinking about Pepper had been some kind of summons, halfway through lunch Michael heard the tap of heels, and Pepper walked into the room with a bundle of papers.

She looked startled to see Lucifer, and Lucifer blinked at her, clearly having no idea who she was.

“Pepper,” Michael said quickly, and Lucifer straightened. “Meet Captain Steve Rogers, aka Captain America.”

“Ma’am,” said Lucifer politely.

“Captain Rogers,” said Pepper, with her own well-mannered smile, covering her confusion perfectly. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Actually, Tony offered me a floor of the Tower,” Lucifer offered, watching Pepper carefully.

“Steve is Lucifer,” Michael explained, and saw the pieces fall into place for Pepper.

“Oh. So he’s moving in. I see,” said Pepper, and her hands clenched around the papers she was holding.

“Pep–”

“Tony,” Pepper began, and stopped. “Michael. Whoever you are. I think it’s best if I don’t… talk to you, for a while.”

Pepper’s expression was strained, and clearly she was putting on a brave face, one that looked like it might crumble at any moment.

Michael had no idea what to do, except respect her wishes.

“Right,” said Michael. “Of course. Whatever you need, Pepper.”

“Right now, what I need is space,” said Pepper, and took a deep breath. “I think I’ll be moving onto the floor beneath this one.”

“If that’s what you want,” said Michael.

Pepper gave him a brittle smile.

“What I want doesn’t come into it right now. This is what I need if I’m ever going to talk to you again without crying or punching you in the face. Here.” She handed the papers she was holding to Michael, who took them. “I’ll send you memos about anything you need to follow up on. Do me the favour of actually reading them.” Pepper took another deep breath. “Is there anything else I need to know, Mr Stark?”

Michael felt sadness welling up in him, knowing that the relationship he and Pepper had had was now gone forever, and quite possibly their friendship with it. Pepper had been such an important part of his life, for so long, that the knowledge made him ache.

“No. That will be all for now, Ms Potts,” he replied, and Pepper nodded, and left the room with her head held high.

Lucifer watched her go, then transferred his gaze back to Michael.

“Are you okay?” he asked Michael.

Michael rubbed a hand over his face.

“Not really, no,” he said tiredly. “I’ve just hurt someone who has had my back for years, and possibly lost them from my life forever. On top of that I’m trying to manage what’s going on with SHIELD and the WSC, and then there’s Heaven to think about.”

“We’ll deal with Heaven when we need to,” said Lucifer. He hesitated, but said, “I wouldn’t ask it of them unless it was necessary, but I know that there are fallen angels in Hell who would fight for us, if it came to it.”

“I don’t – let’s just see what happens,” Michael said, and sighed.

“Sir, Agent Romanov is requesting entry,” JARVIS said. “She wishes to speak with you, although she refused to disclose her reasons why.”

“Great,” said Michael. “Today is going to be a long day, I can tell.”

“Do you want me along?” Lucifer asked, all concern, and as always it warmed Michael’s heart.

“No, you finish lunch and get settled in,” Michael said, with another sigh. “I’ll go talk to Romanov. Show her up, JARVIS.”

“If you change your mind…” Lucifer began.

“Then you’re just a room away, I know,” Michael finished for him, and left the room.

He walked into the main living area of the penthouse, and walked over to the bar. He was in the middle of pouring himself a drink when Natasha stepped out of the elevator.

“Drink?” he asked her, pausing with a bottle in one hand, and a glass in the other.

“No thanks,” said Natasha. “I want to talk to you.”

“So JARVIS conveyed,” said Michael, and put the bottle down, lifting his glass to take a sip. The whiskey burned on the way down, filling him with warmth, but Michael fiddled with his metabolism to make sure that it did nothing more than that. “Talk away.” He gestured to her with his glass.

Natasha looked at him with narrowed eyes.

“What happened to you in Afghanistan,” she said, and Michael looked back at her without flinching. “The arc reactor. Your near-miss with palladium poisoning. Was everything just a cover?”

“Believe it or not, until my little clash with Loki, I had no idea I was anything but human,” responded Michael, walking closer. Natasha watched him with wary eyes. “I mean, that was the point, to forget myself so thoroughly I became someone else.”

“Why?” asked Natasha, and her gaze was dissecting him, breaking him down into tiny pieces in search of answers.

“Because Lucifer was lost,” Michael said simply, “and no one could find him again. I couldn’t bear it, and I couldn’t end it. So I became human, and forgot everything.”

“And Steve?” Natasha asked. “Lucifer?”

“He was made human as punishment, but when he went into the ice, the angel who was supposed to be keeping tabs on him lost him,” said Michael honestly. “We couldn’t find his soul or his body anywhere – in Heaven, Earth, or Hell – and everyone started to assume that maybe he was just, well, _gone_.” Michael took another sip of whiskey, and watched Natasha. “When I became myself again, and realised who Steve was – the only way to keep him safe was to set him free. So I did.”

“And what if he’s a threat to Earth?” Natasha asked.

“He isn’t.”

“But what if he is?” Natasha pressed. “You’re obviously compromised where he’s concerned. You even admitted it. So what if he becomes a threat?”

“Then I’ll stop him,” Michael said, deadly serious. “But it won’t come to that.”

“How do you _know?_ ” Natasha demanded, and a voice spoke from the kitchen doorway.

“Because he’s known me since the beginning of creation,” said Lucifer, stepping forward into the room. Michael sent him an exasperated _‘I had this’_ face, which Lucifer ignored. “And more importantly, he asked me this morning, and I said I had no plans to destroy or otherwise harm the world.”

“Oh, well if he _asked_ ,” said Natasha witheringly, full of unexpected sarcasm.

“Despite what you may have heard, I don’t lie,” Lucifer said, and grinned slightly. “I find telling the truth is much more useful.”

Natasha stared at him for several seconds, her eyes taking in every minute piece of body language, looking for anything that meant a mistruth. Michael knew that she would find nothing, because what Lucifer had said was true – he didn’t lie, or hide his actions. Lies were the tools of those who knew themselves to be wrongdoers, on some level, and Lucifer had always – _always_ – believed himself to be in the right. And nothing could stop him from standing up and doing what he believed was the right thing.

You never had to worry about what Lucifer was doing behind your back. He’d do everything right in front of your nose, with defiance written all over him. Even when he’d rebelled, it had been anything but covert, and the strength of his conviction had been enough to push several hundreds of thousands of angels into damnation with him.

Michael dragged his thoughts back to the present, as Natasha gave a small nod, acknowledging Lucifer’s words, even if she didn’t trust them.

“I see,” she said, and Michael knew that she’d taken Lucifer’s words as a warning.

“It’s true,” Michael put in. “Luce here isn’t the backstabbing type. He’s more up front about it.”

“Thanks,” Lucifer said dryly, and Michael resisted making an apologetic face, because he hadn’t forgotten the War in Heaven. Forgiven it, maybe – the current evidence suggested that Michael had forgiven Lucifer for it, considering the good terms that they were on at the moment – but he hadn’t forgotten. Couldn’t forget, not if he existed for all eternity.

Some wounds went too deep to ever really heal, and that was definitely one of them. He wondered if Lucifer felt the same way.

“You’re welcome,” Michael told him, and heard Lucifer’s exasperated sigh. Natasha’s eyes went between them.

“You two aren’t just brothers in arms, are you?” Her gaze was knowing.

“Nope,” Michael admitted. “More like soulmates.”

“We always were,” Lucifer agreed. “It almost killed me to be on opposite sides, during the War.”

“It almost killed _you?_ ” said Michael. “Excuse me, what about the guy who had to throw your ass into Hell? You think that was fun for me?”

He and Lucifer were bristling at one another, and it was like the helicarrier all over again.

“I don’t want to fight about this,” said Lucifer levelly.

“You don’t want to talk about it, you mean,” said Michael, and noticed Natasha backing away from the two of them. “What, do you expect me to ignore what you did? Pretend everything was peachy?”

“Of course not,” said Lucifer. “But I thought we’d put this behind us.”

“Forgiving isn’t the same as forgetting,” Michael told him, and Lucifer’s eyes flashed white-hot.

“I think your definition of forgiveness needs some work,” he said, and took a step forward. The room was shaking slightly.

It was Michael who took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and reigned in his power.

“Cool your jets, Morningstar. Before you blow the roof off the building, or something, or terrify Natasha any more than you already have. Unless you want a fight that badly, in which case I’m sure there’s somewhere else we can go where there’ll be a little less collateral damage.”

Michael felt the building sense of power opposite him ebb abruptly, and when he opened his eyes, Lucifer was standing there, the glow of power gone from his eyes, looking faintly ashamed of himself.

“I’m sorry,” said Lucifer, and Michael knew he was sincere.

“Yeah, well, buddy, we really need to work on your anger issues,” said Michael, and turned to Natasha. “I guess there’s no chance we can convince you he’s not dangerous after that little display, huh?”

Natasha just watched them both, wary and shaken, if Michael was reading her right.

“Agent Romanov, I’m sorry,” said Lucifer. He looked it. “You shouldn’t have had to see that.”

Natasha turned to Michael.

“Just tell me one thing,” she said. “If he loses his temper, or decides to destroy us all, can you stop him?”

“Yes,” said Michael, and only he and Lucifer knew that it was the truth.

* * *

That night, Michael woke screaming.

He was aware of hands on him and an urgent voice trying to calm him, but his mind was still lost in the nightmare, the thundering voice echoing in his mind even though the dream was over. It was a good minute or so before he finally came back to himself and realised that he was in bed in his suite in Stark Tower, and that he was alone except for the somewhat frantic fallen archangel standing next to the bed. He blinked up at Lucifer, his eyes a little wild, to see Lucifer watching him with great concern and sympathy.

“Are you alright?” Lucifer asked.

“Just peachy,” Michael gasped out, his heart still racing. “Did you get nightmares too, when you fell?”

Lucifer stilled, and said, “Oh.”

“Oh?” Michael sat up in bed, and looked at him.

“Yeah. I did.” Lucifer sat on the edge of the bed, only inches away from Michael. “All the time, even when I was human. I should have realised you’d get them too.” He reached out to cover one of Michael’s hands with his own.

Michael considered sniping at Lucifer for not realising, but it wasn’t really his fault.

“Great,” Michael said instead. “Nightmares of the Big Guy yelling at me for going solo. Fab.”

“Mine are always about falling into Hell and burning,” said Lucifer. “I’m not sure if that’s better or worse.”

“I’d say worse, except that what I just went through was pretty intense,” Michael said, shuddering a bit. “That’s it, I’m not going back to sleep. How do you feel about watching a –” _movie,_ he’d been about to say, but changed it at the last second when he realised that he wasn’t sure if that was a slang word Lucifer would know. “Film?”

Lucifer shrugged a bit, still looking at Michael with some concern.

“If you want,” was all he said.

“Yeah, I want,” said Michael, and grabbed his hand, interlocking their fingers. “Come on, then, son of the morning, let’s introduce you to films of the future.”

The two of them made their way out to the living room, and Michael took a seat on the couch. Lucifer sat down beside him. Michael could feel Lucifer’s warmth through the thin fabric of the clothes he wore. It was comforting.

Lucifer’s eyes went to the glow of the arc reactor through Michael’s shirt, and Michael did nothing as Lucifer reached out to gently rap his fingers against it.

“You should do something about this,” he said.

“No can do, daystar,” Michael replied. “Too many people know I’ve got it, and if it suddenly vanished, that would raise all kinds of questions. And right now, we’re better off sneaking under the radar than letting everyone know who we are.”

Lucifer let out a quiet sigh. The question he asked next took Michael by surprise, although it shouldn’t have.

“Does it hurt?”

“Little bit,” Michael confessed. “Not like it did when I was still human, but… yeah, it aches a little.”

“I’m sorry,” said Lucifer, and Michael thought he meant about the arc reactor until Lucifer clarified, “About earlier today. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I know my Fall from grace hurt you, too.”

“Probably not as much as it did you,” Michael admitted, “considering I never fell into the depths of Hell.”

“No, but you had to cast me into them, which probably hurt just as bad.” Lucifer squeezed Michael’s fingers, where their hands were still interlinked. “I know I couldn’t bear to do what you did.”

Michael didn’t reply, because there wasn’t really anything he could say to that.

“You know, during the war – the second World War, I mean, not the War in Heaven – I had this girl,” Lucifer said suddenly. “Peggy. She was strong, and stood up to me and told me when she thought I was being an idiot, but she always saw me for who I was. And her sense of duty was unshakeable. I didn’t know it, but she reminded me of you,” Lucifer added, and Michael quirked an eyebrow.

“She reminded you of me?”

“Of you as you were,” Lucifer amended. He gave Michael a considering look. “You’ve changed a lot.”

Michael shrugged.

“Been human too long. You know how it is.”

“Yeah,” Lucifer echoed. “I know how it is.”

They sat leaning against each other for a moment in silence, before Michael cleared his throat.

“Right, JARVIS, line up _Star Wars_ for us, will you? The first one.”

“Certainly, sir,” JARVIS responded, and the big screen came to life a moment later.

“ _Star Wars?_ ” Lucifer asked doubtfully.

“Just you wait,” Michael promised, leaning into Lucifer’s shoulder, “it’s great.”

“If you say so,” Lucifer agreed, and went quiet as the opening credits started up.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Michael and Lucifer fell into something vaguely resembling a routine. Michael dealt with the fall-out from the invasion as best he could, keeping Stark Industries on top of everything. In this he was mostly helping Pepper, who as CEO of SI was running the show. There was already a fund being established for the purposes of clean-up and rebuilding, and a separate fund for those who had been injured or rendered homeless by the invasion. The WSC was under scrutiny from the media and security organisations all over the world; SHIELD was mostly coming out of the shitstorm okay, as it was a matter of record that they had attempted to stop the nuke, under Fury’s orders.

When he wasn’t dealing with the problems associated with the invasion, Michael was in his workshop, working on designs for combating possible future incursions. Sometimes Lucifer was there too, watching Michael work or drawing in his sketchbook.

“It amazes me, what your human self accomplished,” Lucifer said one afternoon, staring with fascination at the schematics for the latest Iron Man suit that Michael was building. “I mean, the Iron Man suit, the miniaturised arc reactor – that technology was at least a couple of decades away, and you invented it anyway.”

“To be fair, we both accomplished a lot,” said Michael, glancing at him.

“Oh, I know,” said Lucifer. “But anyone could have done what I did, if they’d had the serum, but what you invented…”

“Yeah, no, even with the serum, I doubt anyone could have done what you succeeded in doing,” Michael argued, but Lucifer failed to be convinced, even when Michael pointed out that it was Steve Rogers’ conviction and determination that had gotten him so far.

Michael wasn’t sure of exactly what Lucifer was doing when he wasn’t down in the workshop, but Michael knew that he went jogging every morning at the ass-crack of dawn, because Lucifer had woken him up several times, trying to convince Michael to come running with him. In the end Lucifer had given up – Michael wasn’t exactly unfit, and as an angel the condition of his body was irrelevant, anyway – but he still mentioned it from time to time, as though Michael would eventually change his mind if he was badgered enough about it.

Michael still had nightmares every night, but then so did Lucifer; most nights they ended up in the living room together, working their way through the backlog of classic films that Lucifer had never seen.

For the most part, Michael pretended that everything was fine, and that this was how he wanted to live his life.

The truth was, being forced to choose between love and duty was taking its toll on Michael. Besides the regular nightmares, Michael found himself feeling lost and depressed. Angels were designed to have purpose, and without his duties, Michael felt useless. Not to mention he felt guilty and treacherous for turning his back on his responsibilities.

After three weeks of this, Lucifer held an intervention.

“This can’t go on,” he said, voice firm.

“What can’t?” asked Michael. “Pass me the coffee pot, would you?”

Lucifer chose instead to move the coffee pot to the far bench, looking stern.

“JARVIS said you’ve had seven cups already,” he said. “But that’s not what I want to talk about.”

“So what do you want to talk about, Morningstar? Because I was kind of busy here, I’m working on a new prototype –”

“You never wanted to rebel,” Lucifer said flatly. “You only did because of me, and it’s hurting you.”

Michael said nothing, and after a moment Lucifer went on.

“That means we need to find some sort of compromise that doesn’t leave your sense of duty tearing you apart.”

Michael stared at him. Lucifer looked deadly serious.

“What kind of compromise?”

“I don’t know,” said Lucifer. That’s why we need to talk about it.”

Michael looked at him, and thought.

“How much do you hate Heaven, really?” he asked abruptly. Lucifer’s brow crinkled.

“I don’t hate it.”

“Right, right, you’re just full of love and affection where the Heavenly Host are concerned. No, really, do you ever miss it?”

“Of course I do,” said Lucifer. “But if I went back now, after everything that’s happened, it would all be for nothing. I can’t bear that.”

Michael turned around to gape at him properly.

“Lucifer Morningstar, are you telling me that the only reason you haven’t rejoined the Heavenly Host is _pride?_ ”

Lucifer scowled at him, but there was a faint pink flush to his cheeks that told Michael that he was right.

“Not the only reason,” Lucifer said. He twitched restlessly “It’s – complicated.”

“So lay it out for me, fairest.”

Lucifer just looked even more restless. But after a minute or so, he spoke.

“I don’t regret rebelling. How could I, when I learned so much? But that others would never understand that, Michael. They could never accept me back knowing that I’m not repentant.”

“Dear Lord,” said Michael. It was more prayer than blasphemy. “Lucifer. Lucifer, Lucifer, Lucifer. Are you _serious?_ Wait, of course you are.” He shook his head. “Lucifer. If you said that you’d decided that you were wrong, even if you have no regrets about your past actions, they’d be delighted.”

Lucifer’s mouth formed a stubborn line. Michael sighed.

“Let me guess. That’s not everything, is it.”

“I think there needs to be someone like me,” said Lucifer. “Another choice. Someone to test the faith and punish the wicked. How can you really believe in something if there’s no other option?”

Michael didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He said as much, and added, “So do both – test people’s faith and punish the wicked while fighting the good fight. Jeez, am I the only one who sees how not-necessarily-at-odds these things are? You can do it _in His name,_ you idiot.”

Lucifer just looked conflicted, which was a step up from stubborn.

“But what if He doesn’t want me back?”

“Oh for crying out loud, you’re a grown-ass archangel. Act like it. How are you ever going to know if you don’t _try?_ ”

Lucifer straightened, a determined look coming into his eyes. Michael badly wanted to kiss him.

“You’re right.” Lucifer took a deep breath. “Let’s summon Gabriel.”

“Good thinking,” said Michael, and they got right on it.

* * *

They summoned Gabriel in the workshop. It wasn’t the most auspicious place for an archangelic summoning, but it was an empty space that had been reinforced against most minor forms of disaster, which made it a relatively safe – not to mention _private_ – place to summon the other archangel.

Gabriel appeared soon enough. Last time Michael had seen him, he had appeared in human form, as a guy in a green jacket. This time, he appeared in full regalia, shining like the sun, all six wings spread and taking up most of the workshop. He wasn’t wearing armour – not _yet_ – but Michael could see it waiting to snap into place in all the physical dimensions. The sight was intimidating, but all Michael wanted was to tell Gabriel to tone it down already.

“Gabriel, Arch-Herald and Messenger,” said Michael instead, because there was a certain way you were supposed to do things, and given what he and Lucifer hoped to achieve, doing things by the book was probably a good idea. “We have a message that we would ask you to pass on.”

Gabriel still looked wary and ready for a fight, his sword shimmering in and out of dimensions by his side, invisible to the human eye.

“What message, Michael?” he demanded suspiciously.

It was Lucifer who took a step forward, and spoke before Michael could answer.

“I want to come home,” he said.

His words were quiet, but the longing in them was unmistakeable. The desperate sincerity in his voice hit Michael like a brick, and it was clear that it affected Gabriel in the same way. His jaw dropped.

“You’ve redeemed him,” the Arch-Herald whispered in shock, glancing between Lucifer and Michael.

“He redeemed himself,” Michael said sharply, because that was important. “I just helped him along, that’s all.”

Gabriel closed his eyes, and shook his head.

“You were right to contact me,” he murmured. “This is a message I must carry.”

And with one last blindly wondering, bewildered look between them, Gabriel vanished.

“That went well,” Lucifer said into the silence.

“Maybe,” Michael allowed. “I have a feeling it’s not going to be that easy, cupcake.”

“Cupcake?” Lucifer glanced at him, a hint of humour in his tone, and Michael grimaced.

“Sorry. Force of habit, bright star,” he said, shrugging. “I bestow nicknames.”

“Cupcake?” Lucifer repeated.

“It was a bad moment, I’ll come up with some better ones,” Michael defended himself.

“I hope not,” Lucifer said, with a faint grin.

Both of them knew that the friendly banter was an excuse not to talk about what had just happened. It was a momentous thing that they had just done, and now they stood on a precipice; either all would be forgiven and they would be welcomed back into the fold, or they would find themselves damned for all eternity.

Michael kind of hoped their Father went with the first option, not the second. He’d never forgotten the way Lucifer had screamed as the fires of Hell drew him down into its depths, and though Lucifer had turned Hell into _his_ territory, a place that did his will, it still wasn’t exactly a warm and welcoming place.

Abruptly Michael wondered what would happen to all the other fallen angels, who had followed Lucifer into Hell. And in an instant, he realised that what they were doing was never going to succeed, because Lucifer would never leave any of his angels behind.

“Oh, crap,” he said aloud. The smile faded from Lucifer’s face.

“What is it?” he asked.

Michael winced.

“What about all your followers?”

“What about them?” Lucifer was frowning in confusion.

“What happens to them if you’re pardoned?”

“Oh.” Lucifer’s face cleared. “Well, if I’m pardoned, then that sets a precedent for everyone else,” he said, like the answer was obvious. “From there I can make sure that anybody who deserves a chance at redemption is given one, can’t I?”

Michael felt the hysterical laughter bubbling up in his chest.

“Lucifer, I’m not sure that’s how it works,” he said, and Lucifer’s mouth formed a stubborn line.

“Well, it should be,” he said, and Michael shook his head.

“Besides, it’s not like I don’t have conditions,” he added, and Michael looked at him in alarm.

“Conditions?” he echoed.

“Sure,” said Lucifer. “I rebelled for a reason. I still think angels should have the choice of becoming autonomous beings if they want to, as long as they aren’t hurting anybody. The fact that I want to come home doesn’t change that.” He gave Michael a guarded look.

The hysterical laughter was still waiting to be let loose, but Michael suppressed the urge as best he could. Instead, he took a deep breath.

“I guess we’ll see what Gabriel tells us,” he said diplomatically, and thought, _please, let this work._

* * *

Three days later, Clint Barton came to visit. He had dark circles around his eyes and his expression was one of bone-deep weariness. Michael could relate.

“So, Legolas, what brings you to casa del Stark?” Michael asked kindly, although he already had an inkling.

Clint stood uncomfortably, with the air of someone who wanted to fidget but had had it trained out of him.

“You… you know what Loki did to me, right?” he asked.

Michael inclined his head.

“Can you fix it?” Clint blurted, his eyes wide and desperate, his hands clenching by his sides.

“That would depend on exactly what you wanted me to fix,” Michael said, as gently as he could manage.

Clint’s hands clenched again.

“I haven’t… I haven’t felt like myself since Loki,” he said quietly. “I don’t mean he’s still controlling me, or anything like that – it’s just me inside my head now, I know that. But the way I think, the… the way I feel, it all feels… wrong,” he finished. “I don’t know how to explain it.” His shoulders hunched. “Natasha told me you’re dangerous, but she also said you probably wouldn’t take advantage of me coming to you for help, and I didn’t know what else to do.”

Michael thought about what Clint had just said. Michael wasn’t familiar with the technology Loki had used, but what Clint was describing… it sounded like residual damage from Loki’s mind-control.

“Okay, here’s the thing,” Michael said, deciding to be honest. “Maybe I can help you, maybe I can’t, but either way it involves me poking around in your mind looking for damage. Are you okay with that?”

Clint stiffened, but after a moment he said, “You wouldn’t be… interfering with anything, right? Just taking a look around?”

“And fixing any damage,” Michael confirmed. “That’s all. You have my word.”

Clint hesitated for a long moment, and then said, “Yeah, okay.”

“You want me to take a look?” Michael asked, just to be clear. Clint nodded, his jaw clenched.

“Right, well first up, Katniss –”

“Katniss?” Clint echoed, but Michael paid no mind to the interruption.

“–we need to get you sitting comfortably. Mind taking a seat on the couch?”

Clint shrugged wordlessly, but walked over to sit on the couch. He was tense.

“Relax,” said Michael. “This isn’t going to hurt you.”

“So you say,” said Clint.

Michael looked him in the eye, and said, as sincerely as possible, “Clint, you need to trust me.”

Clint breathed deeply, and slowly relaxed a little.

“That’s better,” said Michael, and abandoning his human vision for a moment, took a good long look at Clint’s mind.

Looked at with angelic eyes, Clint’s mind was a mess. His brain chemistry was all messed up, and there was damage to some parts of the brain responsible for independent thought – most likely caused by subconscious attempts at rebelling against Loki, Michael thought grimly. More than that, though, the part of Clint that was pure thought had been wounded, and left to bleed out, metaphorically speaking.

Michael wondered if everyone Loki controlled was suffering similar side-effects to Clint, and resolved to take a look at them all later, to correct any damage. The fact that SHIELD hadn’t picked up on the brain damage Loki had left behind was appalling.

Michael switched back to his human eyes and blinked. In front of him Clint was looking distinctly unnerved.

“Clint,” said Michael, deliberately using his name instead of a nickname, “have you seen any doctors since Loki controlled you?”

Clint shrugged a bit.

“They made me come in for debriefing and a physical the day after the invasion,” he replied.

“Uh-huh. Any idea whether they did any kind of brain scan?”

Clint shrugged again.

“Don’t know.”

“Then probably not,” Michael concluded. “Jesus, you’ve been subjected to control of your _mind_ and they didn’t think to do a brain scan? What is wrong with these people?”

Clint tensed again.

“Is there a problem?” He looked simultaneously wary of Michael’s answer, and hopeful that Michael had found something.

“There is, but don’t worry, I can fix it,” Michael promised. “Just sit still for a second.”

“Why–” Clint began, looking nervous, but Michael was already touching his hands to Clint’s temples. Power rolled through Clint’s mind, repairing the damage done and strengthening Clint’s sense of self.

“ _Whoa!_ ” Clint blinked rapidly. “What did you just _do?_ ”

“How do you feel?” Michael asked, instead of answering.

“I feel… loads better,” Clint said wonderingly. “Like nothing happened to me.” He was silent for a few moments. “I still feel guilty about everything Loki made me do, but now it’s…” He shook his head, trying to articulate how he felt. “I don’t know, man. Everything just feels _right_.”

“Good,” said Michael, a little uncomfortably – Clint looked like he was about to cry. Fortunately, the archer soon got a hold of himself.

“Thanks, Stark,” he said fervently. “Or Michael, or whatever.”

“Best stick to Stark,” Michael said.

“Thank you,” Clint said again. “Really. You ever need a favour, I’m there, okay? You just – I don’t know what you did, but you fixed it.”

“You’re welcome,” Michael told him. “You want a drink or something before you go?”

“Nah,” Clint shook his head. “I didn’t tell Nat I was coming, so she’s probably wondering where I’ve gone. I should get back before she gets mad at me for sneaking away. Just… thanks.”

“Well, any time you want to stop by, feel free,” Michael told him, and was thanked yet again before Clint finally left.

“JARVIS,” Michael said, when Clint was gone, “If Lucifer wants to know where I’ve gone, tell him I’m performing miracles, will you?”

“If you wish, sir.”

“Thanks, J. One other thing,” he added. “I need a list of everyone Loki mind-controlled during the invasion.”

“Of course. I assume that you intend to perform for them the same service which you just performed for Agent Barton?”

“Right on the money,” Michael confirmed, picking up the nearest Stark Pad. A moment later, a list of names and faces appeared on screen. With a thought Michael made himself invisible and inaudible to humans, and let his wings unfold from his back before vanishing from the Tower.

This, he thought, was going to take a while.

* * *

For the next few days Michael quietly obsessed over Gabriel’s lack of appearance until finally, Lucifer dragged Michael out to dinner at a small Vietnamese restaurant he’d spotted on his morning run, on the grounds that both of them needed a break from waiting, and Lucifer had never tried Vietnamese food before.

The food was pretty good, and no one was paying attention to the two celebrities at the back table, and Michael was just starting to relax for the first time in days when a guy in a green jacket pulled up a chair and joined their table.

His face was nondescript and forgettable, but his eyes were cool and green and familiar.

“Gabriel,” said Lucifer, while Michael choked on his soup.

“Gentlemen,” said Gabriel, with a cautious nod to both of them. “Greetings.”

He eyed Michael’s coughing fit with – not quite suspicion, but certainly an air that such mortal behaviour was beneath them.

“Gabriel,” Michael wheezed, once his airways were clear. “Greetings.”

“Your petition has been heard,” said Gabriel, helping himself to some of Michael’s soup with a curious expression. This wasn’t as weird as it sounded; angels, up until the War, had always freely shared everything they had.

Gabriel swallowed, and made a thoughtful face at the soup’s taste.

“And?” Lucifer asked.

“Both of you are on probation,” Gabriel intoned, putting Michael’s soup spoon back down.

“Probation?” Michael echoes.

“I believe you understand the term,” said Gabriel.

Michael and Lucifer look at each other.

“You will be taking your orders directly from me for the duration of your probation,” Gabriel added. He seemed to have completely recovered from his shock of a few days ago, and the prospect of ordering around a pair of far more powerful archangels didn’t seem to faze him in the least.

“Okay,” Michael said slowly, while Lucifer asked, “What are our orders?”

“You are currently instated as the Earth’s primary protectors, but you are to carry out your duties as unobtrusively as possible,” said Gabriel, looking serious. “You will remain on Earth for the time being. Any deviation from these orders will be considered a violation of your probation.”

“So… no saving the world as angels?” Michael asked.

“Not unless there is no other way to protect the Earth,” said Gabriel firmly.

“We understand,” said Lucifer. “What of the humans who already know our identities?”

For a moment Gabriel looked like he was listening to a voice only he could hear. Then he said, “They may continue to know who you truly are, but no one else, unless it is necessary for the Earth’s protection.”

“Gotcha,” said Michael.

“Is that everything?” Lucifer asked.

“It is,” Gabriel confirmed. He stood. “Understand this, Michael, Lucifer: while I hope, as I am sure all of my brethren hope, that you are truly redeemed and will once again become one of us, I will be watching you closely, and there shall be no forgiveness if you fail your orders a second time.”

“Understood,” said Lucifer, a little shortly.

Gabriel vanished, leaving the two other archangels alone at the table.

“So, here we are,” said Lucifer.

“Probation,” said Michael. “I can’t believe we’re on _probation_.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Lucifer reminded him. “Besides, it means we get to continue our lives here on Earth, which is what we wanted anyway, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Michael agreed, a little moodily. He was aware that pride was a serious failing, but part of him couldn’t help but be embarrassed at the idea of being on probation, and receiving orders from an archangel who was previously – at least nominally – under his command.

He’d have to work on getting used to that.

“I’ll have to ask Gabriel about my idea of testing the faith in His name another time,” Lucifer said thoughtfully. “Once we’ve established that we’re behaving.” He grimaced slightly.

Michael nudged him.

“Come on, cheer up,” he said, his own mood lightening at the thought of eventually being allowed to go home, with Lucifer at his side. “You’re right, we got what we wanted, we should celebrate.”

“Celebrate?” Lucifer repeated doubtfully.

“Sure,” said Michael. “I guess wild partying is out of the question if we’re trying to be virtuous, but how do you feel about ice cream?”

“Ice cream sounds pretty good,” Lucifer said, with a grin.

“Right then, let’s finish our dinner and then I can introduce you to the wonder that is red velvet icecream.”

“I can’t wait,” Lucifer said, a little dryly, but he didn’t stop smiling.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, there we go, the promised sequel. There may or may not be more of this, depending on my muse. For the moment, consider this series complete.


End file.
